


Vanilla and Sugar

by malcs



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Crack, Gen, fluff overload
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-29
Updated: 2012-07-29
Packaged: 2017-11-10 23:10:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 988
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/471759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/malcs/pseuds/malcs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt: Dean gets a pet bunny and does not have sex with it, but likes to carry it with him all the time. He especially likes it when the bunny sits on his head or around the crotch area. Sam doesn't know why his brother is crazy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Vanilla and Sugar

**Author's Note:**

> Written October 20, 2008.

Dean was walking down the street when he saw it. Sitting in the ditch, little pink nose wiggling all cute and whatever. He looked around carefully, made sure no one was looking, and jumped down beside it.   
  
“Hey little fella,” he said softly. The bunny twitched its soft wittle earsies at him. Dean glanced around again, stuck his head up gopher-like to make sure Sam wasn’t going to pop out of nowhere with a camera shouting  _Gotcha!_   
  
The bunny wiggled its nose some more as Dean squatted down beside it. It was making kind of a weird noise, like a drowsy chicken,  _bock bock bock_  in time with its nose. “Christo,” Dean told it, and grinned when it didn’t suddenly like, burst into flames or start shouting about damned souls or something. Probably clucking noises were regular for bunnies. Beaming, Dean scooped the fluffy white bundle of wuv into his jacket and hopped out of the ditch.   
  
The bunny lay soft and warm against his chest the rest of the way to the motel.   
  
  
Sam wasn’t impressed.   
  
“Dean,” Downer Dick said, “it could have  _rabies_ . It could be pregnant, or full of disease, and it probably has  _fleas_ . Do you want fleas in your car? Dean? Dean? Do you want fleas in your car?”   
  
But Dean wasn’t paying attention, because a miracle was happening. Like, fuck Castiel and his gripping tight of Dean and the angels and the 500 seals or whatever – this was a real damn miracle and Dean wasn’t going to miss its happening for the world.   
  
The bunny.   
  
Was laying.   
  
An Easter egg.   
  
An honest-to-God, purple foil-wrapped Cadbury Crème egg, and Dean didn’t care if the bunny was  _infested_  with fleas, he was never letting it go.   
  
“What the fuck is going on?” Sam asked, forehead bunching. He leaned over Dean’s shoulder and the two of them watched the bunny push out the egg. “Dude. Did that thing seriously-”   
  
“Shh!” Dean said, smoothing a hand down the bunny’s back. With a little  _pop_ , the egg rolled free.   
  
“Hey buddy,” Dean crooned, “did you make this for me?”   
  
The bunny stared at him adoringly, big black eyes full of love. Dean took that as a yes and unwrapped the egg.   
  
“That came out of its  _ass_ ,” Sam hissed, horrified.   
  
“Whatever,” Dean said around a mouthful of Crème egg. “You’re just jealous.” He crossed his legs kindergarten-style and settled the bunny between them, where it promptly fell asleep. “I’m going to love this little guy forever, and cuddle it and pet it and keep its white fur clean. And feast on Cadbury eggs for the rest of my days.”   
  
“Jesus,” Sam said, and slammed into the bathroom.   
  
  
The bunny, named Ozzy, came with him everywhere. Dean was particularly taken with the idea of sticking Ozzy on his head and leaving him there, like a warm little hat that clucked and occasionally dropped chocolate eggs down the back of his shirt. When he was driving, the bunny sat in his lap, twitching his nose at Sam, who stared at the two of them like they were having some sort of crazy hippy kumbayah sing-a-long.   
  
  
Their idyllic life together came crashing down just a few short months later. And it was all fucking Lilith’s fault, which, really, was no surprise.   
  
“I’M A CRAZY BITCH AND I’M GOING TO TAKE OVER THE WORLD AND BLAH, BLAHBLAHBLAHBLAH!” she screamed, which hurt Dean’s head pretty bad. It was either the shrieking or the massive gouge/concussion combo he was currently sporting. Sam was fighting valiantly against her, demon powers all crazy and electric in the air, and Dean was finding it kind of hard to breathe.    
  
His vision was going all dark and tunnely, and that’s when Castiel busted in and started like, tap-dancing and playing his harp’o’doom and Dean was still bleeding pretty heavily and his limbs were going numb but he figured there wasn’t a better way to die than during the final battle for the world.   
  
And then the noise and the stench of battle went away, and Ozzy, little Ozzy, hopped in through the door. His fur glowed white against the gloom of combat, the pink of his nose the only colour in Dean’s limited vision.   
  
“Hey little guy,” he whispered, voice cracked and parched. “What are you doing here?”   
  
Ozzy climbed gentle, oh-so-gentle, onto Dean’s broken lap and curled warm against the trembling skin of his stomach. His whiskers twitched as Dean lifted a feeble hand to smooth along the fur of Ozzy’s back one last time, and then he was travelling down Dean’s leg and off his foot and across the floor at Lilith.   
  
“Ozzy,” Dean sighed, watching his fluffy tail bobbing through the drifting smoke.   
  
And then Ozzy did something that pretty much blew Dean’s hazy mind. He bit through Lilith’s ankle and she fell over and then Castiel shot her with a flaming heavenly arrow and Sam blew her up.   
  
  
When the smoke cleared, and Sam had revived Dean, and Castiel had healed them all, Dean didn’t ask after Ozzy. Not right away. No, the first thing he did was hug the ever-loving shit out of Sam, and yeah, he maybe cried into his big stupid hair a little bit. And then he patted Castiel on the back awkwardly and watched approvingly as he and Sam shook hands solemnly, before the angel flew away in a shower of rainbows and shooting stars. Then he hugged Sam some more.   
  
  
“Ozzy’s gone, isn’t he?” he whispered into Sam’s shoulder later.   
  
“Yeah, Dean, he is,” Sam whispered back, lips gentle against Dean’s ear.   
  
“Well fuck,” Dean said. “He was a real damn hero.”   
  
“He sure was,” Sam murmured. “An Easter egg-laying hero.”   
  
Dean smiled against Sam’s neck. When he finally fell asleep, he dreamt of green fields and a happily clucking Ozzy who sat gentle in his lap, Sammy beside him, the sun warm on their heads.


End file.
